


A Mortal Tradition

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, New Year's Resolutions, One Shot, Zelda POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Even though months have passed since Blackwood's massacre, everything's still up in the air. Zelda's barely hanging on - and now she can't even kill Hilda as a form of stress release.Set post-Season 2.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge





	A Mortal Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge.  
> Prompt: New Year's

_Ugh. Sisters._

She loved Hilda — really, she did — but sometimes she wanted to murder her. Quite frequently, in fact. Sometimes she even did the deed.

"No," she murmured, as she stormed into the parlour, not even bothering to shut the door. Since they'd opened the house to the remnants of the Church of Night, the parlour had been the one room she'd declared off-limits; it had become her only respite, a mix of office and sacred space.

She needed it. In her professional opinion, Zelda Spellman simply wasn't built to handle that many people, especially not at all hours of the day and night. While she didn't regret any of her choices, not for a minute, there was no doubt that it had frayed her nerves; she had far less energy to deal with Hilda's antics, which seemed to be escalating by the day.

Yesterday, for example, Hilda had misenchanted one of her plants with a growth spell. They had woken up to a kitchen covered in green creepers, which were somehow impervious to all obvious forms of magical destruction. Now, noon had long since been and gone, and they'd only just finished hacking them away. Her nose was still itching from the pollen its tiny flowers had released.

She was out of patience. Facing the wall, she rested one hand on the mantelpiece for support.

"I must not kill Hilda," she recited, like a student writing lines in detention. "I must not kill Hilda."

A voice emerged from nowhere. "Whyever not?"

She started. Her heart suddenly accelerated, immediately on edge.

She turned, finding a familiar figure leaning against the doorframe. Lilith.

It had been months. Unexpectedly, she still wore the visage of Ms Wardwell, even though she had returned the latter to Greendale. The thought of the two coexisting was disorientating.

Zelda could forgive the discomfort, though, in her distraction by the rest of her appearance: she'd forgotten how impeccable she always looked. As had become her custom, her hair was loose, though carefully arranged. Her dress was green and gold, depending on how the light hit it, with a high collar that was offset by a low neckline and capped sleeves. It was a good look, she observed. Regal. 

"Lilith." Zelda bowed her head, unsure of how to greet her. Before it had all been so easy — a path so well-trodden that it had become almost scripted. Now, she had no idea of what would be appropriate. For sure, there was no protocol for receiving a being that was possibly your new deity, particularly when you hadn't gotten off to the best start with them, then hadn't seen them for eons.

Thankfully, Lilith wasn't in the mood to stand on ceremony. "So? Why can't you?"

"It's my New Year's Resolution," she said, renewed irritability temporarily surpassing her nerves. "Sabrina pestered me until I agreed to do it."

Lilith tilted her head to one side. "New Year's Resolution?"

"It's a mortal tradition. You set yourself goals." Dismissively, she shook her head. "It's ridiculous. Most of them don't last a month."

Lilith raised an eyebrow, unabashedly disdainful. "Hm."

"Anyway, Sabrina insisted," Zelda continued, realising, with a sinking feeling, that she was rambling to the Queen of Hell. "She says that it's unkind and unproductive. And while I can't fully agree with her, I've learnt that it's best to pick my battles with her."

She laughed. "No, Sabrina is not to be trifled with on matters of principle. Do you normally murder your sister?" she enquired, in a tone that neither condoned nor condemned the concept.

"Frequently. She's terribly irritating at times." She scowled, momentarily regressing to the four hours they had spent restoring the kitchen. "Besides, it's one of the advantages of having a Cain Pit in the back garden."

"I see."

There was a momentary lull, before Zelda came to her senses. "I'm sorry; I've completely forgotten my manners! Can I get you anything? Tea? Gin? He-"

"Black coffee will be fine."

It was a short trip to the kitchen, where she studiously avoided Hilda's questioning look, and back, carrying a tray bearing two cups of tea and coffee, respectively.

Upon her return, Lilith didn't thank her for her coffee — just took a large mouthful, immediately, making Zelda internally wince at the thought of the heat. Then, oddly conversational, she commented, "It's a full house."

"The survivors of Blackwood's poisoning," she explained. "Most of those that are alive and stood with us against the Dark Lord have chosen to stay here in the meantime."

It wasn’t untrue, but it made it sound easier than it was. Some of them had lost their entire families; it had taken all of Zelda’s strength to hold them together.

"They look to you for leadership," she noted. "As High Priestess."

_Was that a threat? An appraisal?_ Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on her teacup. "Not in so many words."

"Not yet." Her expression was impossible to read, but Zelda _thought_ that she seemed satisfied, in some strange and oblique way. Lilith took a sip of her coffee. "So, where do you go from here?"

Taking a deep breath, she began, "The coven-"

The phrasing, and its significance, didn’t evade her. "The coven. Not the Church."

"The aftermath of a massacre is no place for theology. It's my responsibilty to do what's best for the coven. Rest assured, once they have healed, we will not forget where our loyalties lie."

Lilith cracked a sly smile. There was a sense that she was like a cat, toying with its prey. "I can see why Blackwood was so enamoured with you. You know exactly what to say, so that people can hear what they want to hear."

Zelda raised her chin, her only reply. There was no denying it.

Lilith rose, setting her cup in her saucer. Zelda followed suit. "Don't worry. I don't need your blind obedience. I'm not him. Or the Dark Lord, for that matter."

_There's no question of that._ For the first time, in all the months since then, the thought had no sense of loss or regret attached to it.

"But I will be watching you, Zelda Spellman. That will be my own resolution, of sorts." She narrowed her eyes. "I will know if you break your promises. Or your resolutions, for that matter."

"Of course, Your-" she broke off. "I'm sorry. How should I address you?"

"Just 'Lilith' is fine, between us. 'Your Highness', when we're being formal."

"Yes," she replied, cheeks warming a little at the invitation to familiarity. "Lilith."

Turning to the door, Lilith added, "Now, I must bid you adieu. And _do_ try not to kill your sister, if only to spare us from one of Sabrina's lectures."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I'll do what I can."

"If it's any comfort," Lilith called over her shoulder, pausing at the threshold. "I imagine that necromancy is a good look on you. It's a shame that I won't be seeing it any time soon."


End file.
